I don’t trust people readily. In fact, it takes years for me to trust people enough to put myself in a position to find out if I can really trust them.
So when a guy with a clipboard, no vehicle, and a custom polo shirt knocks on my door and wants to offer a quote for any old house project I have in mind, my answer is a decisive “Um” followed by shutting and locking the door. The shirt screamed scam to me; any company that could afford a company polo with a nice embroidered logo that doesn’t bunch the fabric — well, they aren’t small enough to need to send someone hoofing around a lower-middle class village.
Out of curiosity, I looked them up. Lo! the Google returned with a lengthy list of complaints.
So now I’m feeling all smart, when really I just ran into a rare alignment of reality and my natural paranoia.
Tales of the Atomic Zombie 